


Iconoclast

by Mthaytr



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types
Genre: BDSM, D/s, Edging, M/M, Mirror Sex, Orgasm Control
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-21
Updated: 2014-12-21
Packaged: 2018-03-02 14:50:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2816066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mthaytr/pseuds/Mthaytr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Roy has a request.  Ed obliges, and maybe even likes it a little -- not that he would ever admit it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Iconoclast

**Author's Note:**

  * For [repentantheroes (MissMadWorld)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissMadWorld/gifts).



> The lovely Cappie G requested mirrorsex, and this happened. I hope you're here looking for porn because that's what you're going to get!
> 
> Technically set between Limits of Control and Impetus ad Hominem, you need to have read neither to read this.

Edward is naked and flushed and, to be honest, pretty desperate by the time Roy springs this request on him. Crouched over the younger man like a predator, hair falling down around his face, that dark look in his eye -- Ed’s head begins to spin, and he realizes that in the mess of bodies he’s forgotten to breathe. His erection lies, hot and heavy, across his stomach, leaving a faint, wet smear on his golden skin.

Personally, he doesn’t see what’s so appealing about it, but Roy is looking at him with eyes like fire -- ready to consume, to spread, to lick at him until every part of his body burns -- and he wants the man to keep looking at him like that forever. Despite the way his face heats up, he looks down, away, and nods, words utterly lost to him.

And Mustang leans back onto him, the cloth of his uniform jacket brushing smooth skin, teasing across Ed’s chest, and presses an open-mouthed kiss to the pulsing skin below the curve of the blonde’s jaw.

“So accomodating,” he says, voice low and full of promise. “You’re such a good boy,” he finishes, words dipping into a purr, and Edward shivers, and scowls, and pretends he doesn’t love the way those words sound on his lover’s lips.

“Shut the hell up,” he says, weakly, his protest sounding pathetic even to his own ears. “Stop sayin’ shit like that.” Roy gives a rumbling laugh, and digs his thumbnail into Ed’s nipple -- Ed gasps and writhes and makes a high noise through pressed lips.

“I’ll call you whatever I like,” the general says, with that tone of casual authority that always goes straight to Ed’s dick, and honestly, even if he’d never admit it out loud, he would really do just about anything Mustang asks of him. A kiss, laid gently on closed lips, and Ed’s sudden, violent squirm is laced with frustration. Then, murmured hotly into his ear: “You know you like it.”

Edward’s lips part as his breath leaves him in a rush, his hips rock upwards in a vain quest for friction -- futile because Roy has slid off to stand by the bed, looking at Ed like a prized possession, and Ed has to close his eyes if he wants to keep sane, because that look can unravel him.

“Good,” the man says again, brushing knuckles up the ridges of Ed’s abdomen. “Stay just like that, beautiful,” and Ed squirms again, this time in discomfort, because he’s not sure he’ll _ever_ be used to the man’s honest praise, and even though he trusts the man with everything he is, the word still feels like a lie. “Right there. Don’t move. I’ll be right back,” he says -- Ed opens an eye to see what his lover is doing, and earns a hard smack to his thigh for his trouble. “Do that again, and you won’t come tonight,” Roy growls, and the thought is enough to make Ed whimper and freeze in place.

“Yes, sir,” Ed mumbles, which earns an approving noise from the general. He stays frozen, like he promised, as he hears footsteps around the room -- the door opening and shutting again -- and he’s nearly mad with want by the time the general says:

“Alright, Edward. Sit up. Keep your eyes closed,” he says, less like a demand than a request, and Edward is surprised by how much he wants to hear those words as a command, to follow the man’s every order. He does as he is told, and as he does, he feels Roy’s hand fitting over his, leading him -- he is on his feet, padding across thick carpet, anticipation and nerves thrumming in the heavy beat of his heart.

He hears the rustling of fabric on fabric, and then that hand guides him up close to Roy.

“Turn,” the man says. Edward breathes, does. “Sit.” He does; the evidence of the general’s need presses straight into the cleft of his ass. Then, growled into his ear: “Don’t open your eyes yet.” Roy chuckles when the younger man shivers; he has to know exactly how that feels, what that hot voice in Ed’s ear does to him.

“Spread your legs for me,” he says, and the words hit him like a shot of adrenaline -- his cock twitches: he’s pretty sure that if he could open his eyes, he would see it starting to drip. “ _God,_ yes,” the general breathes: a hand -- gloved, this time, the cloth scratchy and warm and beautiful -- closes loosely around Ed’s cock, and by now he’s so worked up he actually moans at even that faint touch. “You have no idea how fucking good you look, Edward,” Roy purrs, and Ed’s next breath comes shuddering, against the hard warmth of Roy’s body. A hand comes up to toy with his nipple -- twisting, rolling, sending twinges of need down his body to pool in his loins, to make the teasing pace his lover has set on Ed’s cock that much more unbearable. 

“Alright, open your eyes,” he finally says, and Ed is unable to resist the request.

When he does, the scene that greets him is nothing short of obscene: a full-length mirror reflects every inch of their bodies back to them, close enough that he can see himself in detail -- can see the sweat dripping from his neck, his unbound hair damp and tangled, Roy’s chin over his shoulder and arms wrapped around him. The other man is fully clothed, entirely presentable, and the contrast between that and his own nakedness sends a jolt of arousal through him.

And the general is watching him with this painful intensity, eyes half-lidded but piercing, locked on to the sight of his hand stroking Edward’s hard length, of Ed’s legs spread apart to leave every bit of him exposed, and it’s hot, _fuck_ it’s hot, to watch Roy touch him and not be able to do anything in return --

“Fuck, Roy,” he breathes, the noise choked -- he thinks he might have intended to say something more, but he seems to have lost it in the haze of lust that consumes him. Another stroke, particularly hard, at the same time as the man pinches his nipple viciously, twists it -- “ _Fuck,”_ he spits, followed by a keening moan as Roy’s hand starts to move faster, faster --

“You like it?” he growls, as Edward rides his cresting pleasure, each breath turning to a pitched noise. “You like the way you look, debauched and wanton, spread out over my lap as I bring you to the edge?”

Edward’s cry is helpless now; he’s writhing, moving, oh _god_ he’s going to come --

And then, the general’s hand is gone; Ed cries out, bereft, as his hips jerk up into the air, looking for that last bit of stimulation because he’s so close, so _close,_ and the absence actually _hurts_ him -- and Roy offers a quiet, low laugh behind him, and Ed is too far gone to do anything but sob.

“Shhh, shh,” he says, sounding far too pleased with himself, and shit, sometimes Ed forgets that Roy’s a real fucking sadist. “You’re fine,” he says, stroking gentle fingers up and down the younger man’s sides, soothing. “You’re gorgeous like this, all red and panting and needy,” and Edward’s sobbing breaths turn to whimpers, and he tries to grind himself onto the hard tent below him, but the movement stops when he feels the general’s fingers clamp down on his nipples, effectively suspending him there. “I love hearing you whine.” He licks the back of Ed’s neck, and the blonde twitches away -- but Roy’s grip on him doesn’t relent, and the pain that shoots through him as he tries to get free only deepens his need.

“Mm, if you move, you only make it worse for yourself,” the general says, and Ed wriggles, just to spite him, because the lack of stimulation is setting off some primal fury in his brain. But then Roy’s long fingers surround him again, all rough and scratching and perfect, and Ed bucks up into it, fucking the tight heat of his lover’s hand, and he knows that this isn’t going to end well but he keeps going anyway, until his thoughts begin to haze over and his loins are tightening and --

Roy stops again, leaves Ed hurting and wanting and needing and he cries out, thrusting up, and Roy murmurs: “Eyes open. Watch yourself,” into Ed’s ear. Eyes held open; he can do no more than watch as his body strains up, begging -- he is hard and flushed, and his eyes are half-lidded, his lips parted -- he looks utterly ruined, and Mustang is still there, smirking at him from the mirror, eyes full of deep lust, and Edward bites his own tongue almost to bleeding because it’s the only thing he _can_ do. Callused hands clench to whitening on the armrests, the cloth behind him rough, and he rubs himself against it, mindless.

With blank eyes, he stares at himself as heaving breaths calm, slow: he watches Roy slip his glove off with distant eyes, mind far beyond the rude details of the moment. The General positions his hand over the puckered muscle of Ed’s entrance, and he can’t even gather himself enough to remember what that means.

“God, you’re perfect,” the man says, tracing his thumb around Ed’s entrance as the younger man struggles to breathe, takes in ragged, noisy whimpers instead of air. “But I like you best when you’re screaming,” he purrs, and in one smooth motion shoves his thumb up inside Ed. The blonde cries out, wants to toss his head back and let go but _can’t_ , because his commanding officer has ordered him to watch and so he must. He keeps his eyes focused on where the man’s finger breaches him; it’s utterly filthy, watching that finger press in and out, making his body tingle and writhe, and he loves that it’s filthy. Teeth close delicately upon the crest of Edward’s ear, then the man says, “Will you scream for me tonight, beautiful?”

Edward nearly comes again at those words: a deep, sobbing moan works its way out from his throat as his body hits the peak -- but Roy’s hand comes up to squeeze him tightly, to keep him once more from crossing that border, to keep him where the General wants him. Ed _wails_ in protest, thrashing about on his commander’s lap, his movements restrained only by the man’s arm encircling him, the firm grip trapping him by his hard cock. 

And Ed might actually be crying now, the wetness pricking at the corners of his eyes sweat or tears -- all the same in the end, really -- and Roy cranes around him with a pleased hum to lick them away, to claim them as his own.

“You want to watch me fuck you?” he says then, more a promise than a question. “You want to see me bend you over and take you from behind? If you keep your eyes open, I’ll even let you come,” he finishes, smirk sharp and deadly; Edward moans, knows that he’s to speak now, tries – after a moment’s failure, he manages to hitch out a:

“Fuck. _Please,_ sir, _”_ and then he’s on his knees on the ground, watching his own face with a terrible fascination -- lips parted, drool beading at the corner of his mouth like he’s some sort of animal – as Roy kneels behind him, preparing himself quickly, and there’s little else he can expect but to take it fast and rough and –

Then, the general has shoved his hard length inside Edward in one thrust, and it hurts but it’s a _glorious_ pain, and he had been on the edge so many times already, and he watches himself through thick lashes as he comes hard onto the carpet. Shaking, shuddering through the orgasm and its aftermath, his muscles betray him: he collapses onto his elbows, and the only things keeping his ass up for the general’s use are the man’s hands. 

Roy doesn’t last long, either, not after that display – distantly, Ed feels his cock throb inside of him – once, twice, again, then softer, a groan hot and heavy in his ear.

Once they’ve both come back down again, Roy pulls out – Ed finds, to his surprise, that he almost wishes he wouldn’t – and collapses on the floor next to Ed, a wide smile on his face and one arm thrown out over Edward casually. There is little space between their bodies, and Roy seems unwilling to open his eyes.

“…If you’re gonna pass out, you could do it on the bed,” Edward points out, and Roy doesn’t move a muscle, just keeps grinning that big goofy grin, and says:

“Mmmm.” He lies there for a moment more, after which he decides he has found something worth moving for – he leans forward to kiss Ed on the lips, and lazily, they explore each other’s mouths. When they pull apart for breath, Roy murmurs, “You know, there’s not a day that goes by that I don’t thank whatever god’s listening that you somehow ended up in my bed.”

“You’d better,” Edward says, and although he presses their bodies together, maybe nuzzles a bit into the crook of Roy’s neck, he does not put an arm around the other man – that would be too difficult to deny, if pressed. “’Cause you’re a total asshole, and nobody else’d put up with your sadistic bullshit,” he adds, and although he keeps his tone annoyed, Roy knows he doesn’t mean it.

And Roy laughs, places another kiss on the younger man’s lips.

“I know,” he says, with more genuine intensity than Ed knows what to do with. “Thank you, Edward,” he adds, and the warmth with which he says it makes Edward’s heart warm up in a way he still is not accustomed to.

“Yeah, yeah,” he grumbles, finally bringing up an arm to loop it around his lover’s body, his face buried in the man’s chest so he wouldn’t have to stand accountable for his actions. “You’re welcome, or whatever. But you owe me,” he says, and what he means is, _never stop._

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked it, let me know! It really makes my day and is supremely encouraging.


End file.
